


The Yule King

by gwyllion



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yule time has come to Camelot, but Merlin isn't feeling well. When he discovers the reason for his illness, he fears his secrets will be exposed. Not only is he the king's bed-mate, but he also has magic. He wants to flee Camelot to keep Arthur from losing the respect of his people. Fortunately, Arthur's cooler head prevails and the men find a happy ending together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yule King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clea2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/gifts).



> The Yule King was written as a gift for Merlin Holidays 2014. Thanks to my wonderful beta, lawgoddess, and to the terrific mods who run this fest. To clea2011, I have always enjoyed your fics so much- I was absolutely thrilled when opened my Merlin Holidays assignment and discovered you were my recipient. Thanks so much for all the prompt notes that you left in your gift request. I tried to include as many of your likes as I could. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a magical Merlin holiday!

“I think it will heal,” Merlin said. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Ben’s tiny ankle. The boy sobbed tearfully when Merlin slid his fingers along the smooth skin, swollen and already turning the colour of a ripe plum.

“I’ve told him not to run on the icy roads,” Ayla said apologetically. She smoothed Ben’s hair back from his forehead.

“Most children don’t always do as they’re told,” Merlin said with a small laugh. He tried his best to alleviate Ayla’s concern over her son. “I know _I_ didn’t, when I was Ben’s age.”

A wave of nausea rose from Merlin’s belly to his throat. He took a deep breath, swallowed determinedly, and continued to examine Ben’s ankle.

“Is it broken?” Ayla asked quietly, her voice wavering through Gaius’s quiet workroom. The words slid from her, cold with fear, like the icy wind that seeped beneath the thick wooden doorframe.

Merlin shook his head as he squeezed the child’s ankle, feeling for the place where the bone splintered. “I think it’s only a sprain,” Merlin lied, his head bent over the small boy’s leg.

“Thank the gods,” Ayla whispered.

“I need you to hold very still, Ben,” Merlin said. “Can you do that for me?”

Ben wiped his eyes. “Yes, Merlin,” he said. 

Hidden from the young mother’s view, Merlin’s eyes flared gold as he summoned his magic to heal the jagged break. He felt the shards of bone begin to mend carefully beneath his fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time Merlin used his magic to heal a child this winter, nor would it be the last. He only wished that he didn’t have to perform his magic in secret. As always, he dreamed of the day when he would no longer need to hide his talents from the people of Camelot.

Winter had come early to the realm—the first winter since King Uther’s death. The river had frozen solid many weeks before the leaves had dropped from the trees. Occasionally, the afternoon warmed enough to loosen nature’s icy grip on the land, but such days were rare.

A fortnight ago, Merlin treated Ethan, the butcher’s child, who had fallen through the ice of the castle moat. Merlin breathed the breath of magic into his small lungs. He placed his hand over the boy’s chest and whispered a quiet spell to strengthen his heartbeat so it matched those of the healthy and living. The child would survive, with Merlin’s help.

Although solstice had not yet arrived, only one week ago, a woodsman limped into Merlin and Gaius’s workshop. Despite his brute strength, his toes had frozen to blackness from a day spent chopping wood with damp boots. Merlin let his magic spark into the damaged digits while the man shivered in pain, his head thrown back in agony. His toes would heal, but Yule would pass before he could walk properly again.

Just when it seemed that Merlin would have his hands full helping Gaius treat victims of the early winter cold, his mentor was summoned to the village of Creagan where a fever sickness had descended upon every man, woman, and child who dwelled there.

Although Merlin assured Gaius that he would have no trouble being left behind to tend Camelot’s ailing villagers, he had spent some mornings of late bent over the chamberpot, retching with some unknown sickness. When Morgana caught him and questioned him about it, Merlin put on a smile and attributed it to sipping too much of the king’s watered wine before bed.

It was going to be a long winter.

Merlin shook his head and pushed the thoughts of his own sickness from his mind. He felt the magic flowing through him, the jagged splinters of bone now mended together beneath Ben’s skin.

The child had stopped weeping.

With his face turned away from Ayla and Ben, Merlin glanced toward the window where the icy air had left a swirl of snow imprinted on the opaque glass. He breathed evenly as his magic retreated back into his core. The pretty white spiral of frosty snow on the window reminded Merlin of the stars he often admired in the clear night sky outside the warm workshop where he and Gaius practiced their medical arts. If it also reminded him of the night sky as he viewed it from the king’s bedchamber on a summer evening when the sky was dark and the sparkling stars reflected the swirling promises that he whispered into the king’s skin, he didn’t mention it to Ayla. Instead, he tucked the memory away so he could savour it when he needed its comfort most.

He turned his thoughts to Gaius, hoping he would return before nightfall. He had been gone four days and Merlin could barely keep up with the visitors who sought healing. Then, there was the matter of keeping up with his obligations to King Arthur.

“Merlin?” Ayla asked.

“I’ll prepare a poultice for you to apply to Ben’s ankle twice daily. I’ll send Damon to you with it when I have it ready,” Merlin said. “It should heal well if Ben stays off his feet for a few days.”

“Do you hear that, Ben?” Ayla asked, ruffling the boy’s hair. “No running on the ice again. Your father will be so sad to learn what has happened to you when he returns from hunting.” 

“Your mother is right, Ben. No more running when the ground is slippery,” Merlin said, pulling the leg of the boy’s breeches back into place.

“You must listen to Merlin,” Ayla said, scooping Ben into her arms, “even if you won’t listen to me.” 

Merlin pulled the hood of Ben’s cloak onto his head and tucked it firmly into place.

“Say _thank you_ to Merlin,” Ayla said, giving Ben a jiggle.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Ben said.

“You’re welcome, young man,” Merlin said. As soon as Merlin reached for the latch to the door, he heard the king’s call.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice rang outside Gaius’s workshop.

Merlin glanced at the door.

“Thank you so much, Merlin,” Ayla said. “I’m glad you were able to help him.”

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur drew nearer.

Merlin bit his lip. “You’re more than welcome, Ayla. I’ll send Damon with the poultice soon,” he said, opening the door and ushering her outside. “Have a safe trip to the lower town. I’d help you carry Ben, if not for…” Merlin tilted his head toward the corridor where Arthur stormed toward them.

“He’s no trouble at all, Merlin,” Ayla said. “Please give Gaius my best when he returns.”

“I will,” Merlin assured her as Arthur skidded to a halt on the icy stones. The king nodded to Ayla as she strode toward the courtyard. A few flakes of snow fell from the sky.

“Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’ve received reports of marauders riding the northern border. How am I supposed to keep the kingdom safe from its enemies if I haven’t got a fresh set of armour to wear?”

“You would think the armour I polished on Tuesday would still be serviceable, if you hadn’t used it to practice in the rain yesterday,” Merlin said.

“The knights need to keep up with their training,” Arthur said. “And I’ll forgive you for your insolence… this time.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. He shut the door behind him and fell into step behind Arthur as he led the way to his chambers.

“I need to practice to keep fighting fit,” Arthur said, slicing the air with an imaginary sword. “You never know when I’ll need to defend the kingdom.”

“You seem quite fit to me,” Merlin said. “Even your head has grown to match the size of your muscles.”

“Really, Merlin? Is that the best you can do? I don’t know why I keep you around,” Arthur said nodding to a pair of serving girls who passed them in the corridor. “You grow more disrespectful every year.”

“You know you wouldn’t last a day without me, let alone a year,” Merlin said with a laugh.

“Another year spent with you as my manservant, gods help me,” Arthur sighed.

“Since you brought it up, the year is almost ready to turn, and everyone is expecting a Yule feast. I hope you have thought about how Camelot will celebrate,” Merlin said as he took the stairs two at a time following Arthur to his chambers. “You’ll need to plan the feast. The castle needs to be decorated. You will serve as the Yule king and you’ll need to bestow some small gifts to the children of your subjects—”

“Merlin, I am trying to defend the kingdom against marauders. I have no time to plan a feast,” Arthur complained. He stopped at the door to his chambers. “You can do it for me.”

Arthur slid the latch and opened the heavy wooden door.

As soon as Merlin stepped into the chambers behind Arthur, he felt his back pressed against the door and Arthur’s mouth hot on his neck. Merlin’s hands went to Arthur’s chest, the fine white fabric of his tunic sliding beneath his fingertips. He should have known Arthur was up to no good when he lured him to his chambers with the demand that he clean his armour. He hoped that Arthur’s story about marauders was also part of his ruse. He hated the thought of Arthur putting himself in danger, especially when he left Merlin behind, as he most certainly would do in this instance, when he had tasked him with the planning of the Yule feast.

“You’re handsy today,” Merlin whispered when he felt Arthur’s hands roam down his back to palm firmly at his arse.

Arthur moaned in agreement and sucked at the sensitive patch of skin below Merlin’s earlobe. Merlin’s breath hitched in his throat. He let his hands slide down Arthur’s belly, moving them across Arthur’s body to find his hips.

Arthur ducked his head and pushed Merlin’s neckerchief out of the way with his nose. The afternoon candles flickered as Arthur nibbled on Merlin’s collarbone with gentle teeth. The sensation went straight to Merlin’s cock. Merlin could barely breathe, but still managed to taunt his king.

“Do you treat all your servants this way?” Merlin asked, stuttering his hips forward so Arthur could feel how aroused he had made him.

“Only one,” Arthur said.

His words brought a smile to Merlin’s face.

Merlin loved when Arthur behaved so affectionately with him, even if he only felt comfortable to do so when they were alone in his chambers. Since Uther’s death, it seemed that Arthur had begun to accept the idea that Merlin was more than a mere servant to polish his armour and ready him for an audience with visiting nobles. Much more.

Of course, Arthur kept up the act when others were around. In his youth, Arthur always disliked the gossip that ensued when a king was discovered to have bedded a servant. It was hardly cause for scandal, but Uther had taught Arthur to keep such matters to himself. Still Merlin hoped that one day Arthur would shed his insecurities enough that Merlin could stand by his side as a true partner, not simply a servant-with-benefits.

“You’ll be expected to give a speech at the Yule feast. The children are making you a crown of holly and berries,” Merlin gasped while Arthur sucked a tender bruise to Merlin’s neck.

“I think I could manage to say a few words,” Arthur murmured, his lips tickling Merlin’s soft skin.

“Only a few?” Merlin asked. He leaned his head to the side to give Arthur better access to his neck. “Can’t you do better than that?”

“Oh, I’ll do better than that, all right,” Arthur whispered with a seductive purr that travelled from the top of Merlin’s spine straight down to his aching cock.

When Arthur dropped to his knees and worked open the laces of Merlin’s breeches, Merlin forgot all about the Yule feast.

With his eyes half-closed with desire, Merlin threaded his fingers through Arthur’s hair. He watched Arthur take his cock, hard and leaking, into his mouth. Merlin canted his hips forward, urging Arthur to move. Arthur responded by gripping Merlin’s thighs. His strong calloused hands held Merlin firmly while he served him with his mouth. When Arthur swirled his tongue against the head of Merlin’s cock, in the way that he knew Merlin favoured, Merlin’s head crashed against the chamber door with a loud thud.

Before long, Merlin cried out in pleasure, his chest heaving as he felt the warmth of his orgasm cascading through him. The room spun before Merlin’s eyes, although he remained as still as the frame of the door he rested against. When he next gathered his wits enough to look at the king, he saw Arthur use the back of his hand to wipe the come from the corner of his mouth. On clumsy feet, Merlin followed Arthur to his bed. Arthur shoved the furs aside and pushed Merlin down onto the lavish bedding.

Somewhere between the chamber door and the bed, Merlin had lost his tunic. He kicked off his boots and slid out of his breeches. His head was dizzy with lust, but the queasiness in his stomach had returned, so he thought it best to let Arthur have his way, rather than engage in a battle of strength to determine which of them would take charge.

He sank into the comfort of the king’s bed and the soothing familiarity of Arthur’s fingers as they prepared him. Reaching behind his head to grip the pillow, Merlin braced himself for the thrust of Arthur’s cock into his hole. Arthur’s warm breath panted kisses against Merlin’s right ankle that rested on his left shoulder. Like every time since the very first, Merlin was aware of how well they fit together, each willing to give and take as necessary. Their stations of king and manservant were forgotten when the need for pleasure took over their movements.

Although Merlin felt the beginnings of a second spike of arousal, he pulled Arthur down to him after he had filled Merlin with warm seed.

“Again?” Arthur asked sleepily as he traced Merlin’s cock with a tentative finger.

Merlin shook his head. “Let’s just lie here,” he whispered, pulling Arthur’s arm around his waist, content to enjoy the warmth of their lovemaking.

Outside the window, the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon. Snowflakes fell softly from the sky with the diminishing daylight. Another cold night would soon fall over the realm.

“Leon and I will be leaving with a half-dozen knights at first light,” Arthur spoke after a while.

“Must you go?” Merlin asked. “Can’t the knights handle it on their own?”

“The reports were worrisome,” Arthur said, trailing his fingers across Merlin’s bare shoulder. “I need to investigate the situation for myself. I know you find it hard to believe, but sometimes my mere presence is enough to drive away those who might challenge Camelot.”

Merlin laughed. But he knew what Arthur said was true. Arthur was an intimidating force on the battlefield and on patrol. Few would dare challenge him, and those who did commit such treason would be sentenced to death. Sometimes drawing the king’s attention to the marauder’s malicious plans was enough to stop them before they ever began to take action.

“You could make yourself useful,” Arthur said. “Do you want to come along?”

“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to,” Merlin sighed. He dragged his toes against Arthur’s calf, playing with the fuzzy hair that grew there. “Gaius hasn’t yet returned from Creagan. What if someone needs help while he is gone?”

“They could wait, either for you, or for Gaius to return,” Arthur said.

“No,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “There’s been so much happening with the cold weather lately. I can’t leave the people… _your_ people. Besides, I’ve felt poorly myself for a few days.”

Arthur lifted his head off the pillow. “You’re not well?” he asked with concern.

“I don’t think it’s anything serious,” Merlin said, smoothing a hand over Arthur’s chest. “It comes and goes.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“I’d never intentionally pass it along to you if I was ill,” Merlin explained. He would be mortified if Arthur thought he’d try to make him sick just to keep him around the castle. He knew Arthur’s place was with his men and it would do no good to keep him from spending time away with them.

“I don’t care about that,” Arthur said, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s lips as if to prove his point. “If it’s contagious, I’d catch it anyway. But if you’re ill, you need to rest.”

“I’ll have no rest while I’m planning your Yule feast,” Merlin said. “No, I’ll be able to rest when Gaius returns, although I’d rather travel with you and your knights.”

“There’s no need. We won’t be gone more than a few days at most,” Arthur said. “That reminds me, I’ll need my armour for tomorrow.”

“I may be exhausted, but what kind of lay-about do you take me for?” Merlin asked with a smile, poking Arthur’s chest with his finger.

Arthur glanced toward the rack where his armour waited, shiny and gleaming. Merlin felt Arthur’s heart flutter in his chest when he turned back to Merlin to catch the gold fading from his eyes.

No matter how many times Merlin performed magic in Arthur’s presence, he always did so with some trepidation. The long years of Uther’s rule had made Merlin wary, even though he knew Arthur would never punish him for using his gift.

To his credit, Arthur appreciated all the times Merlin used his magic to save his life and to ensure Camelot’s prosperity. Still, Merlin knew it had been hard for Arthur to come to terms with his magic. After Uther’s death, Merlin made his tearful confession to the new king. He begged for Arthur’s forgiveness and prayed to the gods that Arthur would still love him despite his dark secret.

As it happened, Arthur confessed that he had already suspected that Merlin had magic. He admitted that he could only rationalize a few of the sudden falling branches that doomed his enemies. He had always looked sceptically at the mysterious heat that turned his attacker’s sword into molten metal. But when Merlin saved him from the Questing Beast by offering his life in place of Arthur’s, Arthur knew that Merlin not only possessed magic, but that he would lay down his life for Arthur. If that wasn’t love, Arthur didn’t know what it was.

In his wisdom, Arthur took the news in stride, especially when considering the advantages of having a powerful partner in protecting the realm and a magical lover in his bed.

“And I’ll need to pack a bag of necessities for the patrol,” Arthur said, nudging Merlin’s nose with his own.

“Already done,” Merlin said as a flare sparked in his eyes.

“You’re getting faster,” Arthur said, raising his head to see a satchel, bursting at the seams, hanging from his ornately carved chair at the head of his table.

“It’s my pleasure to serve you my lord,” Merlin said. “Besides, I’d hate to hear you grousing about not having enough warm clothes or not having enough to eat when you’re away with your men.”

Arthur settled back in bed beside Merlin. “I’m not worried about having enough to eat,” Arthur said, sliding a hand around Merlin’s waist. “And it seems you’re not suffering from any lack of food, either.”

“What?” Merlin asked, shoving Arthur’s hand off his naked belly. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Arthur grinned, tucking Merlin into his embrace again. “You can’t be blamed if there are too many culinary temptations when you’re the king’s bed slave,” he teased, tracing a finger along Merlin’s treasure trail.

“I’m… I’m not your bed slave!” Merlin yelped. And to prove his point, he seized Arthur’s wrists and climbed atop him, pinning Arthur to the bed. “Take it back!”

Arthur wriggled in Merlin’s grasp, half-heartedly trying to get free. But Merlin took no chances with his prisoner. His eyes flashed gold and bright as he bound Arthur in place with tendrils of magic that surged from his fingertips and secured him to the bedposts.

“Take it back!” Merlin insisted with a grin. To torment his captive further, Merlin gently dragged a fingertip across Arthur’s armpit.

“All right! I yield! You’re not my bed slave,” Arthur laughed, kicking his legs as he tried to get free.

“That’s better,” Merlin said, lowering himself to cover Arthur’s lips with teasing licks of his tongue.

“You’re my love slave,” Arthur gasped.

Merlin felt Arthur’s smile against his lips. He relented and released Arthur from his bonds. He sat up and pressed soft kisses to each of Arthur’s wrists where his magic had held him fast.

“If anything, I’m _your_ bed slave,” Arthur said, slipping his arms around Merlin and drawing him down to him.

“That’s much more accurate,” Merlin whispered.

“And what do you think the people of Camelot would say if they knew the truth?” Arthur asked, catching Merlin’s eyes with his own.

Merlin’s heart swelled. He didn’t dare look away. “Is it something you’ve been thinking about?” he asked, blinking with the rush of emotion that Arthur stirred in him. “I want the people to know I belong to you, that you have my heart.”

“Not now, Merlin,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “But perhaps someday.”

Merlin stopped himself from asking _when._ He nuzzled into Arthur’s neck, relishing the moments that they could spend together before he descended the stairs to assemble the poultice for Damon to take to Ayla for Ben’s ankle and to see if Gaius had returned yet. He didn’t dare press Arthur for an answer to when he might rescind the ban on magic. Uther’s beliefs had shaped Arthur throughout his life. Merlin couldn’t blame Arthur if the bonds between him and his father were hard to break. He held Arthur close, feeling his steady heart beat beneath his palm. He would wait as long as it took.

“In the meantime, keep my bed warm for me while I’m away, my sweet bed slave,” Arthur said sleepily.

Merlin jabbed him in the ribs.

 

~

 

“Pregnant?” Merlin dropped his quill. His stomach roiled furiously. The mere thought of a pregnancy sent his mind spinning. How could it be?

Gaius dropped the book of magic on the table directly in front of Merlin with such a force that the candle flames wavered on the far wall. The golden light warmed Gaius’s workshop from the chill as the snow fell for a third day. Arthur had still not returned from patrol with his men and Merlin worried whether he had packed enough warm clothing for the king’s journey. But now, he had other concerns.

“Pregnant,” Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.

“But that’s impossible,” Merlin said, his cheeks burning crimson. 

Gaius tapped the page of the magic book with a withered finger. Merlin glanced at the diagram of the dragonlord pictured in the ancient book, but he didn’t bother to decipher the runes. Dragonlords, seahorses, magic… the message was clear enough. All the words indicated what Merlin already feared.

“Impossible?” Gaius asked. “It says here that a dragonlord is capable of bearing a child if the circumstances are right.”

Merlin ducked his head to avoid the gaze of his mentor. He was certain that he would die of embarrassment if Gaius next asked him whether he had _relations_ with a man. Instead, he studied the scrap of paper by his fingertips.

Merlin had been making a list of preparations necessary for the Yule feast. The decorations were already well on their way to being finished by the town crafters. Wreaths of holly, twined with berries, already graced every window of the castle. Just this morning, Merlin witnessed children dipping clay ornaments into sparkling golden paint. When the paint dried, the decorations would be attached to the garlands that would decorate the great hall for the Yule feast. The extras would be suspended from the hall’s rafters with shimmering ribbons. 

Merlin planned to give his list of food to the cook so she could begin to assemble the ingredients for the feast in the castle’s great kitchen. Only a week remained before the warm glow of the Yule log would burn brightly and the end of the darkening days would be celebrated at the castle. Merlin sighed as he recalled the Yules of his past. Although they were filled with joy, none compared to the elaborate feasts at Camelot. The children of the realm would sing and dance to the music that filled the castle halls. Arthur would don the crown of the Yule king, like Uther did in the years before him. Gifts would be bestowed upon the children from their king, for after all, the children were the future of Camelot. Who knew what young boy might decide to try his luck at achieving a knighthood, years after witnessing such a regal celebration at the castle, where nobles and the common folk revelled together to greet the solstice. And the food—such succulent delicacies were prepared with this level of fervour but once each year.

Merlin had made sure that the list for the cook contained all of Arthur’s favourites. It was only fair, since this would be his first year presiding over the feast. Pear tarts, sugared plums, lamb stew, fattened pigs stuffed with apples and roasted on a spit. Merlin wanted to surprise Arthur by competently planning the feast, but now it seemed that it would be Merlin roasting on a spit when Arthur discovered that he was bearing Arthur’s child. Merlin dreaded Arthur’s reaction.

“Merlin,” Gaius shook his head. “Do you want to tell me about your relationship with the father of your child?”

Merlin looked toward the window, where the snow fell thick and constant across the realm. The weather had delayed Gaius’s return to Camelot form Creagan. And it would delay Arthur’s return from patrol with the knights. At least that would give him time to think about how he could break the news to Arthur when he returned.

“Merlin?” Gaius prodded.

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. “He’s quite fierce in battle. I think he’ll probably want to kill me.”

“Merlin,” Gaius placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “I have long suspected that _you_ and the _king_ …”

When Gaius trailed off waiting for more information, Merlin wished that he had gone ahead and left the physician’s quarters unattended, days earlier. He should have ridden out with Arthur and Leon and the knights. At least he’d be in the forest, where he could think undisturbed. He’d give anything to avoid having this embarrassing conversation with Gaius about how he and Arthur spent their time in the king’s bedchamber.

“Well?” Gaius said, at a loss for words.

Merlin was amazed how a simple question like _“How did things go while I was away?”_ could change a man’s perception of the past month. He had spent weeks treating himself for nausea and indigestion, but to no avail. He never considered that he wasn’t ill with a true sickness. He never suspected he could have conceived a child. It should have been obvious to him, a physician’s apprentice. He was pregnant… pregnant with the king’s heir.

Merlin’s cheeks flamed when he contemplated admitting to Gaius that he had been tupped, by the king, of all people.

“It’s not Arthur’s,” Merlin said, speaking before he could think it through.

Gaius choked. “No?” he asked.

Merlin covered his eyes with his hands. Of course that would mean that there was someone else who bedded him. Merlin realized how stupid he was to lie to Gaius. “Arthur is important,” Merlin said, not meeting Gaius’s eyes. “He’s much too important to father a child with a servant like me, despite what the book says about a dragonlord’s abilities to bear a child.”

Merlin rested his chin on his hands, the list for the Yule feast forgotten beneath his fingertips.

Gaius pulled out a chair and sat beside him.

“Arthur is fond of you. I’ve seen how you and the king have forged a friendship in these past years,” Gaius said. “I’ve not known you to become _close_ to anyone—not like you have the king.”

“But what would Arthur’s subjects think if they learned that their king had not only lain with a mere servant, but that he had fathered a bastard?” Merlin sniffed.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, petting his shoulder reassuringly. “It wouldn’t be the first time that a king of Camelot bedded a servant.”

“No,” Merlin said. “But this is _Arthur_.”

“And because he’s Arthur, he’ll do the right thing,” Gaius said. “And _your_ child is no bastard. I honestly can’t believe you give Arthur so little credit.”

“But this _is_ Arthur we’re talking about,” Merlin said. “What if the people of Camelot think less of him because he’s fathered a child with me?”

It was the worst thing Merlin could imagine. He couldn’t bear the thought of Arthur losing the respect he had worked his whole life to attain. He was to become the greatest king to ever rule over Camelot. He was to unify Albion. He couldn’t very well go for a roll in the hay with the nearest servant who caught his eye. It was beneath his dignity.

“Surely you’re not thinking of keeping this knowledge from him?” Gaius said.

Tears came to Merlin’s eyes. “I have to!” he said. “What will the people think of Arthur when they find out he’s fathered a child with a sorcerer? There’ll be no keeping magic a secret when they discover I’m pregnant with the king’s heir. It will make Arthur a hypocrite in their eyes.”

“Surely Arthur has accepted you, and your magic,” Gaius said. “You’ve told me so, yourself.”

“But when I spoke to Arthur before he left, he seemed no closer to allowing magic in the kingdom than he had been when Uther was alive,” Merlin said sullenly.

“These things take time,” Gaius said. “From a very early age, Arthur was taught to fear magic. But he’s far more understanding than his father.”

Merlin shook his head. “He’ll never forget what Uther taught him,” he said. “And I can’t expect him to publically acknowledge magic just because of me.”

Merlin pushed out his chair and went to his seldom-used room in the alcove adjacent to Gaius’s workshop.

“What are you doing? Gaius asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” Merlin said as he shoved the odd tunic and a ratty old pair of sleep pants into a satchel. “Damon will make a great apprentice. He already knows how to make poultices, and he’s far more skilled at identifying herbs than I am.”

“What are you talking about, Merlin?” Gaius asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Merlin asked, stopping to regard Gaius with a sad look. “I need to leave Camelot.”

“Merlin,” Gaius said, meeting him at the door. “You can’t just leave. Where will you go?”

“I can return to my mother’s house in Ealdor. If I hurry, I can be far from Camelot, before Arthur returns with his men,” Merlin said. He examined a spare pair of socks for holes and stuffed them into his bag.

“Merlin,” Gaius said gently. “You need to think of Arthur. Don’t you think the king will wonder why you’ve disappeared?”

Merlin’s shoulders slumped. He dropped the satchel to the floor and wiped his eyes.

“He’d send a search party and find me before the first night fell,” Merlin sobbed.

“Of course he would,” Gaius said, knowingly.

“And he’ll kill me!” Merlin cried, tears leaking from his eyes.

Gaius shook his head. “Merlin, I’ve seen enough pregnancies to know that bearing a child does strange things to one’s emotions. Thoughts are scattered, tears fall for the tiniest of reasons, and you told me yourself that you haven’t been able to keep your breakfast down in weeks. You need to think more about your plan. You’re leaving your friends, your work, your king? It makes no sense.”

“I can leave Arthur a note. I’ll tell him that I needed to go back to Ealdor to visit my mother,” Merlin said. “He’ll understand that.”

Gaius sighed. “I don’t think Hunith would approve of you keeping your pregnancy a secret from Arthur,” Gaius said.

“She may not, but she’ll be able to help me. At least I’ll be far from Camelot so Arthur won’t suffer the shame of fathering a child with a sorcerer,” Merlin said.

Merlin shouldered his satchel and hugged Gaius goodbye. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get to my mother’s house,” Merlin said.

Gaius looked grim. “I wish you’d reconsider this,” he said.

“If your book of magic is right, I’ll have several more months to reconsider it,” Merlin said.

 

~

 

Merlin wearily climbed the steps to Arthur’s chambers. He had been so tired lately. He had assumed it was from all the planning for the Yule feast, but now he knew otherwise.

Outside the stone-framed windows of the castle corridor, snow fell thick enough to cover the courtyard. The footprints of townspeople tracked through the white fluff. The pacing of Camelot’s guards dusted the snow off the stones and left them a dark cold grey.

Merlin bit his lip, unsure of what he would write to Arthur when he had a piece of parchment under his quill. As he passed the holiday decorations that adorned the long hallway from Gaius’s workshop, he thought about how much he would miss being in the castle for the Yule celebration. He smiled fondly remembering how he spent the past week making the announcements for the Yule feast and posting them around the lower town. People were planning to gather from all over the realm to celebrate the Yule with Arthur, his first as King of Camelot. Merlin wanted everything to be perfect, but now things were far from it.

Of the many guests who were expected at the castle, Merlin had anticipated the arrival of Lance and Gwen the most. They were riding in from the garrison Lance guarded on the southern border of the kingdom. The small castle at the village of Nermia had been given to Lance and Gwen as a wedding gift from Arthur himself. The most noble knight could keep watch over that border of the kingdom far from Arthur’s court. Merlin wondered if Gwen was pregnant yet. Perhaps they would have something in common to talk about, if only he didn’t have to run away to Ealdor.

Merlin allowed himself to daydream as he felt a wave of discomfort in his belly. It would have been fun to experience the joy of having a child in Camelot, if not for the fact that his magic would no longer be a secret. Merlin imagined a blond child with bright blue eyes trying on his father’s crown. Maybe their active toddler would climb onto Arthur’s lap while he sat on the throne. Merlin dreamed of a young boy learning to wield a small sword as he was taught by the best swordsman in all the land. He only hoped that the child took after Arthur in that respect, instead of his clumsy self.

But, alas, it could never be. Merlin forced himself to only think of Ealdor and the welcome his mother would give him.

Perhaps Hunith would teach the child to garden and to look after livestock. Merlin could teach him the healing arts that he had learned from Gaius, and how to identify herbs. The three of them could live as a family in Ealdor. Merlin would miss Arthur terribly, but his little family would be fine, and to Merlin’s relief, the king’s honour would not be questioned.

Merlin’s satchel weighed heavily on his shoulder as he paused at the door to the king’s chambers, a festive wreath covering its upper half. The scent of fresh balsam wafted through the air, reminding Merlin more of the holiday he would miss. He sniffed back a tear and flung the door open. His heart stopped when he saw Arthur staring out the window, watching over the courtyard.

Arthur dragged the tip of his thumb out of his mouth. “Merlin?” he asked, his face sombre.

Merlin’s jaw fell open. He let the satchel slide from his shoulder. If he had known the king had returned when he walked through the castle to his chambers, he may not have made the trip. Instead he would have left directly from Gaius’s workshop, putting his feet on the road with Ealdor firmly on his mind.

But if he had done so, he never would have seen Arthur’s expression as it moved from pensive contemplation to unfettered joy at seeing Merlin enter through his door.

“Sire,” Merlin gasped. “You’ve returned.”

Arthur stepped toward Merlin. Merlin closed the distance between them, dropping his satchel to the stone floor.

Merlin fell into Arthur’s arms, the tension of the past afternoon melting away. His lips felt hot against the cold chill of Arthur’s mouth as they greeted each other with a tender kiss. Outside the window, the wind whipped the snow through the courtyard. Merlin warmed Arthur’s lips by pulling kisses from him before he allowed him to speak. He closed his eyes, still red and streaked with tears from his outburst with Gaius. The press of ice cold chainmail made Merlin’s fingers ache as he pulled Arthur close.

“You’re freezing,” Merlin whispered, when he drew his face away from Arthur’s.

“I’ve only just returned,” Arthur said.

“And your men? I saw no party of travellers in the courtyard when I passed,” Merlin said.

“I left early in the morning and rode ahead of them. But they’ll be here by nightfall,” Arthur said, his eyes drinking in the familiarity of his own chambers after spending many days away.

Merlin hoped he didn’t see his possessions as they spilled from the satchel on the floor. Already his plan to keep his pregnancy a secret and to leave for his mother’s seemed embarrassingly ill-planned.

“I was just about to rescue you from Gaius’s,” Arthur said. “I trust he’s returned by now?”

“He has,” Merlin said, lowering his eyes, hoping Arthur wouldn’t notice he had been crying. “I’ll lay a fire, but first we have to get you out of this mail.”

Arthur slid his gloved fingers beneath Merlin’s chin and tipped it upward. “Something is upsetting you,” he said. “Is it the sickness?”

Merlin stepped backward and shrugged. “No,” he answered assuredly, but then he caught himself and looked away. “And… yes, I suppose.”

Arthur smiled and stroked Merlin’s cheek with his thumb. “You can’t decide?”

“A bit of both, actually,” Merlin said. He rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm. It was no use trying to keep his anguish a secret from Arthur. “Let me help you with your armour.”

Merlin walked to the table and pulled out a chair. With practiced movements, Arthur sat and let Merlin fuss with the buckles that held his pauldron in place.

The cold silence was broken by the clink of metal as it was manipulated by Merlin’s fingers. The gusting wind seemed to wash through the castle walls as if they were made of the sheerest silk. 

“Why were you looking out the window when I came in? You seemed to be deep in thought,” Merlin asked as he lifted the armour from Arthur’s shoulders, trying to keep the conversation easy.

“I was thinking about something you said before I left,” Arthur said, rolling his shoulders when they were relieved from their burden.

“Me?” Merlin asked, setting the pauldron aside and tapping at Arthur’s arms so that he would hold them high over his head.

“Yes,” Arthur said, pausing as Merlin lifted his chainmail tunic over his head. “When you spoke of the knights being capable of taking care of the marauders on their own.”

“And?” Merlin asked, stepping away to arrange the mail on its stand beside the hearth.

“And, as much as I hate to admit it, you were right,” Arthur said.

“Well, that’s a first,” Merlin said turning to show Arthur a forced smile.

Arthur laughed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

Merlin walked to the fireplace and knelt on the stone floor. He chose some pieces of kindling from the wooden box and placed it carefully in a loose bundle before he reached for the flint. “So, did the knights vanquish the enemy while you lounged in your bedroll?” Merlin asked.

Arthur snorted as he unfastened the laces of his gambeson. “Why are you using the flint?” he asked, turning to watch Merlin light the fire.

Merlin had no good answer. He thought it best to stall for time by using a flint while he fought the urge to blurt out his news about his plan to go to Ealdor. Everything within him told him that he nothing to fear from Arthur, even though he had planned to lie to him about the pregnancy. Gods knew he had lied to him for years about his magic. But he needed time to think. He wanted to prevent Arthur from suffering the loss of his people’s respect. Now that he was in Arthur’s presence, it didn’t seem so easy to convince himself of the worthiness of his plan, even if it would save Arthur from the humiliation of fathering a bastard—and with a sorcerer no less.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I think I hid my magic from you for so long that sometimes it comes more naturally for me to do things the _normal_ way.”

“Even if the _normal_ way leaves your king shivering in his small clothes?” Arthur asked with a grin.

Merlin sat back on his heels. His eyes flashed gold and the flames burst into life in the hearth. He held his palms up and basked in the warmth for a long moment. He felt Arthur's eyes on his back.

“That's better,” Arthur said, shrugging off his gambeson. “Now help me get out of these sweaty clothes.”

Merlin stood and walked to Arthur's chair. He knew it was useless to hide his feelings. Hiding his magic was one thing, and his pregnancy another. But feelings? He could never hide his feelings from the king. He’d be a fool to think it was possible.

“You're so cold,” Merlin said, his voice low. He used the armrests of the chair for support as he climbed into Arthur's lap. He could feel the chill rising from Arthur’s damp skin. “The fire will warm you soon enough.”

“And you will warm me sooner than the fire,” Arthur said, his eyes half-closed with lust. He braced his hands on Merlin's hips and rested his cheek on Merlin's shoulder.

“And more efficiently,” Merlin said, peppering Arthur's forehead with kisses.

“At least there are some things you can do efficiently,” Arthur said.

Merlin slid his hands down Arthur’s back. He found the hem of Arthur’s light tunic and peeled the clinging mess over his head. “It must have been a difficult trip back from the border today. It's been snowing since morning.”

“I got an early start,” Arthur said pressing close, his voice a deep whisper in Merlin's ear. “Contrary to what you believe, I wake before dawn when I'm on patrol – even if my men can get along fine without me.” 

Merlin let the soggy shirt drop to the floor behind Arthur. “Without you? You were going to tell me what happened. Why did you leave your men and return on your own?” Merlin asked gently. He smoothed his hands over Arthur’s cold collarbones, willing the warmth from his palms into his skin. “And if you know what’s good for you, you'd best answer that you couldn't bear to be away from your manservant for another day.”

Arthur let a burst of laughter escape him. “Yes, I had to rush back to Camelot to make sure my love slave was getting his chores done,” Arthur said, rucking Merlin's tunic up to tickle his sides.

“Stop,” Merlin said with a grin, grabbing Arthur's hands with his own and threading their fingers together. His heart was glad, as always, that Arthur could turn his worries into good cheer.

Arthur leaned up to steal a kiss from Merlin's laughing lips.

“Tell me,” Merlin said, hoping to hear good news. He believed that if Arthur was successful at the border, it would make it easier to explain that he must go to Ealdor. “I want to hear about your trip and I want to know why you’ve returned before your men.”

Arthur took a deep breath and swallowed. The fire caught his eyes and drew his gaze away from Merlin. 

Merlin couldn't bear to see Arthur so indecisive about his words. He wished he could urge him along, but experience taught him that it would be best to show some patience. Moments passed as the firelight filled the chambers with a soft glow, the chill slowly vanishing from Arthur’s skin.

“You were right all along,” Arthur said, finally. “I’ve seen that my men are capable. I’ve paid attention to them—both in training and on the battlefield. I’ve watched them on patrol. I listened to them make decisions about how to handle the marauders. And they’ve exceeded my expectations.”

“They learned everything they know from you, my lord,” Merlin said, not sorry that he added the honorarium to his statement.

“It was as you said. They didn't need my approval to dispense justice, although I gave it willingly,” Arthur said. “They were a marvel to watch. I hadn’t realized how capable they’ve become.”

“I've seen how hard you work them on the practice field. I know how they perform in battle,” Merlin said. “They do it for you. You are their king.”

“So, I am,” Arthur said, his eyes falling on Merlin's lips. “And a king belongs in his castle.”

“Are you saying you shouldn't have gone with them?” Merlin asked, worry in his voice. He skimmed his hands over Arthur’s back and around to his chest. “Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?”

“Something did happen,” Arthur said. “I have decided to I let my men defend the realm when there are minor skirmishes like this one. There's no need for me to ride out for every pair of bandits that cross Camelot's borders, when my men can handle such invasions. It's a waste of my time, especially when I'm needed at home.”

Merlin relaxed into Arthur’s lap, relieved to know that Arthur wasn’t hurt. “But why were you needed back here?” Merlin asked.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, pressing his palm to Merlin's belly. “I've sometimes worried that I wouldn't be able to thwart the advances of armies. I've wondered what would happen if I couldn't lead the men in battle. I always thought the responsibility to lead them was mine, alone.”

Arthur's hand slipped under Merlin’s tunic and rubbed smooth circles over the dusting of hair that grew on Merlin's stomach.

“Arthur?” Merlin gasped, worried that his belly would betray him.

“But you, Merlin... you always see me—not for who I am, but for who I might become,” Arthur said.

“Always,” Merlin said. “It's the prophecy that the dragon told me about.”

Arthur gave a sceptical smile.

Merlin had told Arthur about the dragon's words many times, but he couldn't be sure that Arthur believed him. Beneath Merlin’s palms, Arthur's chest was clammy from his travels in the cold. Merlin's fingertips played with the light springs of hair, watching with fascination as they dried in the warmth of the fire.

“You, Arthur, will become the greatest of kings. I don't need the dragon to convince me,” Merlin whispered. “You alone will lead Camelot to a prosperous and glorious future.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Arthur said, his hand curling behind Merlin’s neck.

Merlin let himself lean into Arthur's touch. “I’m often wrong,” Merlin said, forcing a smile. “Tell me how I’m wrong about you becoming the greatest king who ever ruled?”

Arthur pulled Merlin closer, so their foreheads touched. “I won’t be alone,” he said.

Merlin breathed in Arthur's scent. He had missed the familiar smell of Arthur's skin after a hard ride. Although this time, only a week had passed that they were apart. Merlin didn't know how he would cope with a longer absence. He was a fool to think he would be able to leave for Ealdor so easily.

“I’ve seen what it is to rule alone,” Arthur said. “I don’t want to become like my father.”

“You could never be like your father,” Merlin assured him. He framed Arthur's face in his hands and drank in his scent as he kissed his mouth.

“And I won’t be, as long as I have you,” Arthur said softly when they broke away, their faces so close that they shared each other’s breath.

Merlin leaned back onto his heels and caught a glimpse of the satchel of clothing he had dropped on the floor. He felt horribly guilty about his plan to run away. But how could he stay with Arthur, when he feared what people would think of their king? There had to be another way. Perhaps he could disguise his pregnancy with a glamor, so his condition would remain unknown. But what would become of their child when it was born? They couldn't very well hide a newborn babe in the castle.

“You’ll always have me,” Merlin said, biting down on his lower lip. “Even in times we are apart, I’ll do everything I can to protect you, as long as you live.”

Arthur let his fingers caress Merlin’s neck. “My father had no wife to see him through his older years,” he said. “My mother, may the gods grant her peace, would have been his partner for all his life had she survived after my birth.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said, feeling the weight of his sadness. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “But I’m just beginning to understand how her death affected my father, how it made him ruthless when dealing with the sorcery that he believed took her life.”

“Grief can do terrible things to a man,” Merlin said. He shifted his thighs to get more comfortable on Arthur's lap. He felt Arthur’s arms slip around him, supporting him in place.

“And so can the loss of a wife or a husband,” Arthur said. “There's no need for me to venture so far from the castle to deal with every minor catastrophe that threatens Camelot's borders.”

“Why this sudden change?” Merlin asked. “You've always been so keen to make your presence known.”

“I've seen how tired you are lately,” Arthur said. “Just the other day, you were telling me that you felt ill.”

“What does that matter?” Merlin asked. “I'm your servant. I'm expected to work when I'm tired, and no matter what sickness befalls me.”

“But you also have been helping Gaius with healing,” Arthur said. “And I'm sure you took care of everyone who needed help while he visited Creagan.”

“Yes, and I made your Yule preparations,” Merlin reminded Arthur. He glanced toward the hearth where a wreath of balsam hung above the mantle. “Perhaps you need more than one manservant to fulfil all the orders you give?”

“That would be disastrous,” Arthur laughed.

“Not so,” Merlin said. “Even with magic, I sometimes feel like I'm not enough to do everything I must for you… and your people.”

“But you are enough,” Arthur said. “And I think I know why you’re so tired.”

Merlin blinked.

“My father was a stern ruler, both with his kingdom, and with me, because he grieved so thoroughly over his lost wife,” Arthur said. “I only know my father’s sorrow. I think that’s why I want our child to know only our happiness.”

Merlin’s eyes went wide. “How did you know?” he asked, filled with a strange combination of terror and elation.

“Leon suggested it,” Arthur said, pushing the hair out of Merlin’s eyes.

“Leon?” Merlin asked, his hand covering his mouth. “But? How?”

“He remarked that you were getting fat,” Arthur said, patting Merlin’s belly. “He asked me if I had put a baby in you.”

“What?” Merlin gasped. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Of course that was after he had drunk a flagon of wine,” Arthur said. “It was snowing hard and we had gathered around the fire for warmth.”

“And you suspected that what he said could be true?” Merlin asked in disbelief.

“Well, it got me thinking,” Arthur said. “You’ve told me yourself that because you’re a sorcerer, you’re not going to be exactly _normal_.”

Merlin threw his arms around Arthur’s neck. It came as a relief that Arthur seemed calm about the baby.

“And you’re not angry?” Merlin asked, tears pricking his eyes.

“What good would it do to be angry?” Arthur asked, holding Merlin tight. “You are bearing my heir and I love you.”

Merlin was astonished that he hadn’t given much thought to what would happen as he endured his pregnancy. He had been so intent on keeping Arthur from the embarrassment of bedding a servant and keeping his sorcery a secret by running away to Ealdor, that he had forgotten how much it would mean to Arthur to have an heir.

In one swift motion, Arthur pushed himself out of his chair, taking Merlin with him, his legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist.

“I wanted to run away,” Merlin said with a sniffle. He held tight to Arthur’s shoulders as he was lifted into the air.

“Where would you have gone?” Arthur asked, plodding carefully to the bed.

“I could only think of returning to Ealdor, to my mother’s house,” Merlin said.

“Is that what that bag of ratty clothing is?” Arthur asked, kicking the satchel out of the way. “I thought you were gathering laundry.”

Merlin laughed. It felt good to feel so light-hearted again.

Arthur lowered him to the bed and tugged off his boots, letting each one drop to the floor.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me,” Arthur said, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. It was for your own good,” Merlin said as Arthur knelt over him to unlace his breeches. “I feared that you would lose your people’s respect if they knew you bedded a servant.”

“Do you really think that people are so stupid that they don’t already suspect that you share my bed?” Arthur asked with a grin.

Merlin kicked off his breeches. “I don’t know. They could be,” he said, not entirely believing it.

Arthur rolled onto his back and shucked his damp smallclothes, before returning to hover over Merlin. He pressed a reverent kiss to the swell of Merlin’s belly while Merlin’s fingers carded through his hair.

“Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that I’ve been in love with you since the day you arrived in Camelot,” Arthur said as he moved lower to cover Merlin’s thighs with kisses. “It doesn’t matter to them that you’re my servant.”

Merlin moaned softly as Arthur’s lips brushed against his hard cock. For a moment, he could think of nothing else but the heat that rolled through his belly, warming him from his fingers to his toes.

The fire crackled in the hearth. Outside, a fresh dusting of snow covered the castle grounds.

“Besides, they’d have nothing to say about it. I can’t think of one person in the entire kingdom who doesn’t adore you,” Arthur said. He crawled up the bed to stretch out naked against Merlin, his skin now warmed throughout.

“But what about my magic and—” Merlin could no longer speak because Arthur had clamped one hand over his mouth while the other lazily stroked his cock.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said.

 

~

 

Hunith had never looked more beautiful. She smiled graciously, her velvet gown a resplendent Camelot red. On the table, the most succulent cuts of venison adorned her platter. The aroma of sweetened berries braised in honey wafted through the air.

Hunith squeezed Merlin’s arm. “I’m truly proud of you,” she said.

“Mother,” Merlin said, laying his hand over her own. “I know this was all a surprise to you. I’m just glad that we’re able to be together for the Yule.”

“I am too,” Hunith said. “I want you to know that you can always count on me to help you with the baby.”

“I know,” Merlin said, his hand drifting to his belly.

“Are you scared?” Hunith asked.

“Not really scared,” Merlin said. “Just a little worried.”

“Believe me,” Hunith said, raising her goblet, “the worrying never ends.”

Merlin turned his head when he heard his name being called over the din of the great hall.

“Merlin! Merlin!” Ben ran up the aisle to the dais, carrying a crown of holly, decorated with golden berries. He squeezed between Merlin and Arthur where they sat at the high table.

“Ben!” Merlin shouted. “What did I say about running?”

“I told you he wouldn’t listen,” Ayla said, as she made her way through the crowd to gather her son into her arms.

“What’s this you’ve got, Ben?” Arthur asked tapping the crown with a finger.

“It’s a crown I made for the Yule King,” Ben said, holding the crown up for all to admire.

“It will look very handsome on King Arthur’s head,” Hunith said with a nod.

“But I didn’t make it for King Arthur,” Ben said.

“Not for me?” Arthur asked.

“I made it for Merlin,” Ben said. He wriggled out of his mother’s arms. “He can be the Yule King.”

“He must have heard you explain in your speech that Lord Merlin would be your partner in running the kingdom from now on,” Ayla said.

“Merlin’s going to have a magical baby,” Ben said brightly.

Hunith nearly spat out her watered wine. “From the mouths of babes,” she said with a laugh.

“That’s right, Ben,” Arthur said. “I hope our baby turns into a boy as smart and handsome as you.”

“And we’re going to depend on you to teach him not to run on the ice so he won’t get hurt,” Merlin said.

“I will,” Ben said gleefully.

Merlin dipped his head low so Ben could place the fragrant crown of holly and berries on his head. “How does it look?” he asked, meeting Arthur’s sparkling eyes with his own. 

“It looks perfect,” Arthur said.

“It does,” Ayla said with a nod. She took Ben’s hand. “Now let’s get you back to our table so you can have a sweet for dessert. Thank you, Merlin, and you too Arthur. Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you, Ayla,” Merlin said.

As the minstrels began to play another tune, Merlin gazed out at the crowd that had gathered for the Yule feast. Friends from across the land had joined together to celebrate. He was happy to see Lance and Gwen again. They were as much a part of his family as were Hunith and Gaius and his new sister-by-handfasting, Morgana.

The great hall was bursting with joy as the knights danced with ladies and children sang to welcome the end of the darkening days. While the snow fell outside, the Yule log roared in the fireplace, warming every heart and keeping the chill of winter away.

Merlin felt Arthur tap his shoulder. When he looked away from the crowd to face him, Arthur took Merlin’s hand in his own.

“May I have this dance, Lord Merlin, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, and Yule King?” Arthur asked. He brushed a dangling sprig of holly from Merlin’s forehead.

“Only if I can still be your love slave,” Merlin replied in a whisper before he pushed out from his chair.

“We’ll see about that,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin to his feet. “Later,” he whispered seductively in his ear.

Merlin grinned knowingly and straightened the holly crown on his head. 

The end


End file.
